


How Long Will I Love You

by blondsak, Machiavelien, seekrest



Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, FOS Squad is what we deserve, Found Family, Grief/Mourning, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, traditions as a love language, we saw canon and threw it out the window
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27106444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Machiavelien/pseuds/Machiavelien, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: It takes nearly four rings before Peter hears a click on the line.“Dude, what time is it?” Ned asks, sounding groggy. “It’s not even eight, Peter, what are you—wait a sec. Today’s your birthday! Happy birthday.”Peter grins, throwing out another web as he swings through downtown Manhattan in the early morning sun.“Thanks, Ned.”
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954963
Comments: 114
Kudos: 105





	How Long Will I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Broken Hearts

It takes nearly four rings before Peter hears a click on the line.

“Dude, what the hell?” Ned says, sounding groggy. “What time’s’it?”

Peter grins, throwing out another web as he swings through downtown Manhattan in the early morning sun. “Sorry man, did I wake you?”

There’s a groan on the other end, followed by a short pause, then, “It’s not even eight, Peter, what are you—oh shit, wait a sec. Today’s your birthday! Happy birthday.”

Peter chuckles, the light vibrations easily absorbed by his mask. “Thanks, Ned.”

“How’s it feel to be legal? Did Tony hand you a beer at midnight?”

“Nah, Tony wasn’t the one giving me the drinks, that was _May,”_ Peter corrects, freefalling a few stories before gravity pulls the web in his grip taut. “Her exact words were, _this better be your first sip of alcohol, mister_ before she proceeded to pour us all shots of whiskey. It tasted awful too.” Peter frowns, a sudden thought occurring to him. “Though maybe that was her plan all along…”

He can hear Ned’s smirk over the line. “Dude, can you even _get_ drunk?”

“I guess we’ll find out on this road trip, now we’re all twenty-one,” he replies. “That’s actually why I’m up right now—wanted to get one last patrol in before Spider-Man takes a two-week vacation.”

“You’re the walking definition of a workaholic, Peter.”

“Excuse me,” he replies indignantly, “Spider-Man doesn’t _walk_ places.”

“Fine. The flying, leaping, crime-fighting definition then.”

“I’ll take it,” Peter says with a grin. “But I really do want this to be a good trip, y’know? I even plotted out the whole journey on an actual–”

“Map, yeah, I know,” Ned interjects. “You’ve mentioned it about ten times just this week. Not that I’m complaining—you and maybe Betty are the only ones I trust to be in charge of navigating.”

“Hey now, that detour on the way to the cabin last year wasn’t _completely_ MJ’s fault,” Peter is quick to defend. “And Flash is… okay yeah, I don’t trust Flash with that responsibility either.”

“I’m not sure I even trust Flash to find his way to _Central Park_ today, at least not on time.”

“I dunno,” Peter says with a shrug, “I mean, the first stop is a picnic, and he tends to show up early when there’s free food.”

“Sure, keep calling it a _picnic._ We both know it’s really your birthday party before we all pile in Flash’s car and head out of town.”

Peter groans, but doesn’t argue the point. “Just… don’t let MJ or Betty go too nuts, okay? I got to celebrate plenty with Tony and May already.”

“Yeah, but Tony and May aren’t your _best friends and girlfriend._ It’s different.”

“MJ isn’t my girlfriend,” Peter mutters, then, “kinda hoping maybe by the end of the trip though...”

“Oh yeah? What’s your plan? It better not be anything like the one you had for the decathlon trip, before Mysterio ruined everything. Because that was a _supremely_ cheesy plan.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, dude. And I don’t know,” Peter says honestly. “Don’t really have a plan, just kinda hoping.”

“Well, I can’t make any promises about your party—Betty put me in charge of decorations _,_ so I think that’s a lost cause at this point—but I’ll do what I can to be a good wingman the next couple weeks, anyway.”

“And _that,”_ Peter says, “is why you’re my greatest friend, Ned Leeds.”

“Obviously,” Ned replies, and Peter can’t help but nod silently in agreement, because it _is_ obvious. Ned’s been there for him for as long as he can remember, almost.

“Excuse me, Peter,” Karen chirps in his ear then, “There’s a disturbance about ten blocks west of your current location. A bank robbery, according to reports.”

“Damn, it’s a little early for criminals, isn’t it Kare? Guess they figured Spidey was still sleeping,” Peter replies with a confident smirk, then to Ned, “Sorry man, duty calls. I’ll see you at the park later.”

“See ya, Peter. Kick ass, and happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Ned,” Peter says, Ned hanging up shortly after. He hooks a right around a skyscraper, going west. “Alright Karen. Lead the way.”

* * *

Ned sighs as he takes the box of decorations out of the closet, setting it on the floor only to groan when he sees what a mess they are.

It would be _infinitely_ easier if they just threw the damn things out and got new ones, not that Ned would be able to convince Betty of anything different. 

As if she could sense that she was being thought of, his phone buzzes - Ned sitting up from his position on the floor to grab at it, seeing Betty’s name flash across the screen before he answers. 

“Hello?”

“Just checking in to make sure you have the decorations,” Betty’s voice chimes in from the other line, Ned looking back to the box as he makes a face. 

“Yeah I do,” he says, moving back towards them and picking up a streamer only to groan in frustration when the paper thin material rips in his hands. 

“Darth Vader giving you trouble?” Betty asks not unkindly, Ned’s grip in the already thin material causing it to tear up even more. 

“You know we can just get new ones,” Ned says through gritted teeth, forcing himself to try and stay calm. Being in charge of this part of the party was the tiniest thing, especially compared to what Betty had to do to prepare. It still frustrated him, enough that Betty can clearly hear it through the phone as she gently says, “We could, but it’s about the—”

“Tradition,” Ned finishes for her, “I know, I know.”

He sighs, Betty quietly listening on the other line as he stares down at the box again. “Maybe we don’t have to keep some traditions. It’s not like Pete will mind.”

“No,” Betty says, her voice distant now which makes Ned think he’s been put on speaker, “But it’s the principle of the thing.”

Ned closes his eyes, forcing himself to relax and think of the big picture - not to mention the memory of when they _first_ surprised Peter with these exact decorations. 

He’d been so taken aback by them, a tradition going back from when they were all in high school - celebrating his birthday with a “surprise” picnic, decking the place out with little streamers and cheap _Star Wars_ figurines, before heading off on a road trip - the destination changing every year. 

Betty was right, it _was_ the principle of the thing. No matter how old they got or how much life changed, the _Star Wars_ decorations should at least stay the same. 

“You’re right, you know. As always,” Ned says, picturing Betty’s smile on the other line as she laughs.

“See you at three?”

“Yeah,” Ned says, thumb gently grazing over the half-shredded streamer, thinking of all the birthday parties they’d had since that first day. 

“See you then.” 

* * *

_Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C)._

After getting off the phone with Ned, Betty sets to work on Peter’s cake.

It’s one of the constants in their friend group, same as how Ned always wins when they play Risk, or how MJ always picks out the best indie films to watch on Movie Night: if it’s someone’s birthday, Betty always bakes the cake. It’s just how it is.

_Grease and flour a 9x9 inch pan._

And really, Betty doesn’t mind. Baking comes more naturally to her than cooking, at least. Cooking is an art, one to which you can add or take out or sub in ingredients. Changing even one little thing when cooking can alter the course of the entire meal, for good or bad.

It’s not like that with baking. With baking, if you stick to the recipe, things turn out exactly how they should every time. Baking is easy. Baking is safe. 

Betty likes easy and safe. Easy and safe were how she got through high school, after all. 

_In a medium bowl, cream together the sugar and butter._

From a young age, Betty did exactly as she was told by her parents—focused on school, and extracurriculars, and being the best at everything she did. And so she learned from a young age that sometimes to be the best, you had to take the path of least resistance. List out the instructions, follow the recipe to a T, and _bam,_ everything would work out just how you wanted, right?

Or at least, that’s what she’d thought until the trip to Washington DC, when she and her friends had all nearly died in a broken-down elevator. 

_Beat in the eggs, one at a time, then stir in the vanilla._

She hadn’t known then Peter was Spider-Man, and never would have believed it even if she had suspected. It just didn’t fit in her plan—in how she saw him, or the little part of the world she lived in. And Betty didn’t like when things didn’t go according to plan. It scared her, and it scared her for her friends too.

Speaking of her friends, Betty quickly washes her hands and grabs her phone, dialing the one person she knows to call around now, with only a few hours to go. The phone rings once, twice, three times, and to voicemail.

“Hey nerd, it’s Betts. Just reminding you that you’re supposed to pick up MJ at three. You better not be a jerk and flake on us again.” Betty pauses, unsure what else to say.

_Combine flour and baking powder, add to the creamed mixture and mix well._

“Just, please be there this time. I know you know this, but it’s kind of important.” Another pause.

_Stir in the milk until batter is smooth, and pour batter into prepared pan._

“See you soon.”

_Bake for 30 to 40 minutes in the preheated oven._

Once the timer is set, Betty gets to work pulling together everything else. Soon enough her color-coordinated rainbow luggage is all by the door, ready to go. A cooler with the hotdogs and macaroni salad sits next to it, along with a recyclable bag containing bread buns, paper plates and plastic cutlery.

She finds herself once again in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter, staring at the oven. 

Betty likes easy and safe. And baking—well, that’s easy and safe.

Sometimes Betty wishes life could be that way too. Just for today though, her wish is much simpler. Betty wishes–

The timer goes off, startling her out of her thoughts. She puts on her oven mitts, and with a deep breath, gets back to work. The party starts in an hour, and she needs to be ready. Being ready is all she really has control over, anyway.

_Cake is done when it springs back to the touch._

* * *

  
“Hey nerd, it’s Betts. Just reminding you that you’re supposed to pick up MJ at three. You better not be a jerk and flake on us again.” 

Flash dangles the phone in front of him, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Betty was always articulate, steady and to the point. Yet Flash could physically feel time pass as she seems to figure out what to say. 

“Just, please be there this time. I know you know this, but it’s kind of important.” 

Flash sighs, regret churning in his stomach for the reason for her words - missing Peter’s party last year for the stupidest of reasons. 

They all said they didn’t hold it against him and Flash, more mature and secure than he’d ever been when they were teenagers, trusted them at their words. 

Still didn’t make the guilt lessen when he hears the end of Betty’s message, the longing in her “see you soon” being enough to make him sigh as he deleted the voicemail.

Flash puts the phone back down to his chest, staring up at the ceiling in his bedroom, thinking back to the perfect storm of events that had led to him missing it last year. 

The excuses were easy - it was raining, he’d been sick the week before, he’d just broken up with his boyfriend - but he could feel the disappointment emanating from their text thread, felt the guilt swarm around in his chest when he saw the pictures of their trip. 

It was hard to believe there had ever been a time when they weren’t friends, back when Flash was a bit of an idiot and Peter was, well, _Peter._ Any remnants of jealousy or insecurity were long gone, replaced only with regret that he’d wasted so much time without them - much less all the time he wasted not being friends with Peter.

Being a part of their friend group was the life line he hadn’t known he’d needed, especially the last few years. 

Flash exhales slowly, thinking of all the times Peter had been there for him even back in high school - much less college - treating him with a kindness that Flash still didn’t think he deserved. 

Peter deserved better than this, much less Ned, MJ and Betty, forcing away the sadness deep in his gut as he picks his phone back up and shoots a text back to Betty.

 **TheFlash (1:32pm):** way to smother on the guilt, B. 

**TheFlash (1:32pm):** don’t worry I’ll be there. 

Flash stares at his phone for a bit, waiting for the text bubbles to light up only to remember that Betty was likely arms deep in making a cake right now as he laughs. 

**TheFlash (1:33pm)** : dont forget the strawberries. u know parker loved those.

Peter _hated_ strawberries but Flash can’t help but smile at the joke anyway, bringing his phone back down to his chest and staring up at the ceiling.

Imagining what Peter’s face would’ve looked like at seeing the strawberries in the cake makes him smile, swallowing down the regret that sits in his chest as he sits up and gets ready to go.

* * *

Michelle closes her eyes as she got out of her car, letting the sunshine wash over her as Flash closed his own door. 

“You good?” she hears him ask, opening her eyes to nod at him as he gives her a grim smile - walking ahead of her to where Ned and Betty were already setting up. 

Michelle hangs back for a second, closing the door and looking around. 

It was fitting, a beautiful and quiet sunny day to celebrate Peter’s birthday. Michelle was glad that the universe was actually kind to them for once, especially since they’d been rained out last year. 

The car ride was only semi-awkward, Flash still feeling guilty for something that Michelle thinks he shouldn’t - especially since she’d nearly cancelled the whole thing herself last year. 

She doesn’t get to reminisce for long when she hears Ned calling out to her, turning to where they were as he waves. 

“MJ! Good you’re here, back me up on this.”

“You think _MJ’s_ gonna back you up? Please,” Betty scoffs, Ned looking indignant as the two of them start to bicker again. She catches Flash eye, holding back a smile at the playful eye roll he gives as she walks up to them, the easy banter they always fell into just as much of a tradition as their meeting up here. 

Though meeting for Peter’s birthday had been a tradition for years, meeting _here_ had been one only for three - Michelle feeling the familiar sadness that she’s sure will never go away as she walks a few feet away from where Ned, Betty and Flash were set up. 

She reaches into her pocket, thumb caressing over the corner of the folded sketch in her hand as she leans down into a squat. 

Michelle chews the inside of her cheek as she stares at the headstone in front of her, noticing that the jar of sketches placed in front of it is nearly full. 

She knew May came to collect them every so often, something Michelle didn’t begrudge her for. It was something of a tradition just between the two of them - a small way for her and May to keep the memory of Peter alive. 

She leans back, feeling a cool breeze pass through the cemetery just then, smiling at the silly thought that it was _Peter_ \- even if a part of her still desperately wished that it was. 

“Happy birthday, Pete,” Michelle whispers, before looking up at her friends - ready to celebrate the birthday for the friend that would no longer have one. 

**Author's Note:**

> We love it when people scream at us in the comments. Come hang out with us on tumblr: [blondsak](https://blondsak.tumblr.com) and [Machiavelien](https://machiavelien.tumblr.com)


End file.
